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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28658607">Good Impressions</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atlantic_Seaglass/pseuds/Atlantic_Seaglass'>Atlantic_Seaglass</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who, Doctor Who &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Headcanon, Supporting fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:47:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,009</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28658607</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atlantic_Seaglass/pseuds/Atlantic_Seaglass</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>First impressions are important, it's said. No one considers this a more tricky thing than Captain Stephen Lindsay when he potentially meets his new commanding officer.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Good Impressions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Damn it but it was hard not feel anxious as he waited to be called in. Never before had he been awaiting a personal meeting with a general officer. For that matter, never before had he needed to effectively interview for a posting as a regimental medical officer. Captain Stephen Lindsay squashed a grimace. But then, most Army doctors did not leave their previous regiment under a cloud. Or nearly to have left their previous regiment. Strictly speaking, he was still the RMO for the 5th Royal Inniskilling Dragoon Guards. He was merely on leave. Every indication was that he'd not be returning and in truth, he didn't care to. It was hardly a miracle that he still had his commission, since that could not be taken from him so easily. Yet reputations had a way of preceding people. His own, at the moment, was certainly not in the best shape, as he well knew. </p><p>There was little doubt this fellow, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, would know of his reputation. He'd also very probably know more of the circumstances surrounding Lindsay's going on pre-departure leave. Senior officers had unnerving ways of knowing things they shouldn't. Both of those things made it something of a wonder he was even here, but he was not about to look a possible gift horse in the mouth. This was not his only chance to secure a new posting, of course, but if his career was left to the Army, he was certain he'd end up in an undesirable overseas garrison. It would be a dead end, for example, to be sent to Kenya or worse, Belize. He didn't want to leave the Army, having given so many years to it already. The desire to remain was therefore strong enough that he waited in this uncomfortable chair, managing to stay mostly still in the process.</p><p>The sergeant manning the desk in the outer office glanced up from the report – or whatever it was – that he was typing. He rose from his chair and said, 'He'll see you now, sir.'</p><p>Surprised, Lindsay all but leapt to his feet. How on earth had the sergeant known it was time? 'Thank you.'</p><p>He did his best to refrain from brushing non-existent lint and wrinkles from the khaki serge of his Number Two jacket. It was less easy to keep from feeling as though he was about to throw himself headlong off the proverbial cliff. The sergeant opened the door leading to the inner office and waited in silence for Lindsay to pass. Striving to appear more composed than he felt, he strode past the sergeant. In basic ways, this was no different from reporting for the first time to a new commanding officer. March in, halt at a one-pace distance from the desk, and salute, keeping his eyes up and fixed on the wall behind the officer at the desk.</p><p>'Captain Lindsay, sir.'</p><p>The brigadier gestured at one of the chairs on Lindsay's side of the desk. 'Have a seat, Captain.'</p><p>He sat stiffly, choosing for the moment to sit at attention. 'Thank you for seeing me, sir.'</p><p>'Let's get right to it.' It could be a good sign the brigadier was getting straight to business. Lindsay mentally crossed his fingers. 'I understand you are presently posted to an armour regiment.'</p><p>'The Fifth Royal Inniskillings, yes, sir.'</p><p>'Before that you were with the Second Sherwood Foresters.'</p><p>'Yes, sir.' Hopefully the move from an infantry battalion to the cavalry wouldn't count against him. Lethbridge-Stewart had the look of a career infantryman. They had some common ground in that respect, at least. Lindsay had done his national service with the Lancashire Fusiliers. Yet he'd chosen medicine over a life carrying a rifle. Hopefully that too wouldn't be a black mark. Quite how it might, he couldn't say, but you never knew what influenced the prejudices of senior officers.</p><p>'A respectable pedigree for an RMO. Your name was given to me by your previous colonel. His recommendation was surprisingly glowing. I've known George Howarth long enough to take any good character he gives about a man seriously, which is why you're here.'</p><p>'I see, sir.' Even though he didn't. Not really. Colonel Howarth had hardly lifted a finger against the solidifying of the Inniskillings' mess against Lindsay. It was one of the handful of slights he held against his nearly-former commanding officer. </p><p>Lethbridge-Stewart regarded him levelly. 'I'm in need of a competent and reliable medical officer. That is the material point. Your record speaks for itself but I'm yet to be fully convinced. A service record seldom tells the whole story. Any MO who joins this staff must also be the very definition of discretion. We are not... a conventional unit here. Much of what we do is never to be spoken of beyond these walls. It is just as important for our MO to have a great deal of mental and moral resilience, for the same reason as he must be circumspect.'</p><p>That was a plain admission that the brigadier knew everything. Lindsay felt his heart sink and tried to keep his expression blank. This was, then, an example of what he could expect from other commanding officers wherever he went next. Perhaps he'd be better off asking for an overseas posting, if only to escape from the cesspool of rumour and favouritism that was the BAOR – and indeed the mainland Army here in Britain. 'Those may be qualities I don't quite possess, sir. At least not in sufficient depth to meet your requirements.'</p><p>'Indeed. Nothing I've heard of you supports that.'</p><p>He could well imagine what Lethbridge-Stewart had heard and he had no doubt none of it was complimentary. But he could not call a brigadier a liar to his face, could he? 'Yes, sir.'</p><p>The brigadier lifted an eyebrow at his deadpan response. It was the sort of thing an OR said when faced with a reprimand. An officer should not stoop to such things – but what other reply could he have offered? Whatever this brigadier claimed, Colonel Howarth had evidently done what he could do spread a biassed version of events to his friends, which meant this was not an interview but a farce, designed only to make it clear he would never again join a regiment of good repute.</p><p>'I suppose I should have expected that,' Lethbridge-Stewart continued. 'So, tell me yourself what has led to your desire to leave the Inniskillings to join us.'</p><p>It was all Lindsay could do not to fidget with his tie. Damn it all. Did not the bastard already know this whole sorry, miserable tale? There was nothing else for it, though. There was no hope now of making a good impression so he might as well do what he could to present the truth. He was under no illusions that whatever he did, Howarth's version of events would be the one more widely believed but here in this moment, he could ease his conscience a little.</p><p>So he drew in a breath, settled his gaze on the wall behind Lethbridge-Stewart, and told the story. Everything, from initially discovering Captain Barrowford's misappropriation of regimental stores and funds to the threats and abuse he'd been subjected to after reporting the activity, to his eventually needing to take the matter outside the regiment to the Special Investigative Branch. It was that decision which had rather quickly led to his exclusion from the Inniskillings' mess and made him the subject of considerable derision and rumour around Harewood Barracks and beyond. Barrowford's court-martial had been only a partial vindication; the captain had kept his commission, losing just some seniority and receiving a severe reprimand.</p><p>What it all meant was that there was no home with the Inniskillings for Lindsay any longer. Simply because he'd been bullheaded enough to not keep quiet. In hindsight, his career was possibly too high a price to pay for failing to look the other way, and yet his basic integrity would never have allowed him to do that very thing. The brigadier needed an MO who was discreet. Who could see things and not open his mouth about them. Well, that was certainly not what he'd get here. Which meant Lindsay could expect nothing better than a trip off to the worst posting in the British Army, until he'd had enough and simply resigned.</p><p>Lethbridge-Stewart was silent for some moments after he'd finished. It was the sort of silence that suggested a bollocking, or at least a rebuttal, was soon to be delivered. Lindsay willed his stomach to unclench. This wouldn't be the first such reaction he'd endured in recent times. </p><p>'It may be of some surprise to you that I have heard every detail of this affair,' said the brigadier eventually. 'More, perhaps, than you've related. Contrary to your apparent belief, yours is precisely the sort of behaviour I expect from the men and officers of this Corps.'</p><p>'Sir?' Bewildered by the lack of a rocket, Lindsay could not help blurting the single word out.</p><p>'I recall mentioning that a great deal of mental and moral resilience was required for an MO serving here,' Lethbridge-Stewart told him. 'Discretion is nothing without the determination to resist external influences and pressures. Those you have borne are a sterling case in point.'</p><p>'I don't see how the two correlate, sir.'</p><p>'It's one thing to keep secrets when they must be kept, Captain. It is entirely another to keep secrets when they cannot be kept. You discovered a secret that could not be kept and did what needed to be done to ensure it was not kept. Discretion, remember, has more than one definition.'</p><p>That was true. Viewed in this way, he supposed he could see what the brigadier was driving at, even if he did not quite understand how it mattered. 'It does indeed, sir.'</p><p>'Hm. I suppose I should simply ask, do you have any wish to return to Germany?'</p><p>Lindsay shook his head almost immediately. 'None at all, sir.'</p><p>'I'd thought not. Would you have any objection, then, to a posting here?'</p><p>'I hadn't imagined I would have a great deal of choice in where I go next, sir. If I was to be sent anywhere here, though, I suppose I could do worse than Colchester, or perhaps Bulford Camp.'</p><p>To his surprise, Lethbridge-Stewart was shaking his head. 'No, Captain. I mean here, in Edinburgh.'</p><p>He what? The very suggestion was... not at all what Lindsay reckoned he'd hear. It was tempting, though. Damned tempting. He had no desire to return to Germany, and least of all to the Inniskillings. All the same, given the tenor of this meeting so far, he hadn't expected what amounted to an offer of a posting. 'Ehm... well... I don't...'</p><p>'Let us assume that means 'yes', perhaps?'</p><p>Lindsay clicked his mouth shut and nodded. He was not sure he trusted himself to speak in that instant. Nor did he quite know to make of what felt, to him, like a complete about-turn. Was not the brigadier a friend of Colonel Howarth, as he'd alluded to? Why did he not take the stance so many others did and effectively declare himself in favour of Barrowford and the skewed tale he had spread?</p><p>'Good. I see no point in asking if your departure from the Inniskillings can be swiftly achieved. Not that it is a matter with which you, personally, need to be concerned. The less notice taken of your going, the better.' The brigadier was on his feet, Lindsay realised with a start, and he scrambled to stand as well. Instead of a sharp dismissal, he was being offered a new posting. A new job. And... a hand to shake, which he belatedly accepted and tried not to let his deepening sense of bewilderment show. </p><p>If he was aware of Lindsay's faltering composure, Lethbridge-Stewart gave away no sign of it. Indeed, his grip was like iron. 'It's an unconventional beginning, perhaps, but that is only to be expected in this Corps. Welcome to Edinburgh, Captain.'</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wrote this some time ago mostly for my own amusement. It's set within the canon of the Lethbridge-Stewart novels and is my small attempt to fill in a character history gap. I have an unfortunate fondness for seizing background characters and giving them as much life as leading characters. There may well be more stories of this sort in future.</p><p>Character ownership: Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart belongs to the Haisman estate. Stephen Lindsay is the creation of A. Allen.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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